Much That Once Was, Is Lost
by Wannabe Darklord
Summary: Sequel to Akallabeth. Buffy is not the only one in which things from the past are stirring...
1. Old Songs and Tales: Loremaster

Title: Old Songs and Tales: Lore Master (1/6)

Series: Much that once was, is lost

Timeline: After Akallabeth, so somewhere in early season 2 of BtVS.

Summary: Giles contemplates his books.

A/N: The title was inspired from jedibuttercup's challenge, which I have only recently realized goes rather well with what I have imagined for this series.I plan to have a lot more fics in this universe, but most of them are still in the planning stages. I hope to have them up soon as these are more of a bridge to the other ones. Any reviews/comments/suggestions/constructive criticism most welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places mentioned in these fics. They are the property of much richer and more imaginative people than me.

* * *

It was another quiet day at the library, a thing Giles was most grateful for. Translating these fascinating texts was not easy and the quiet, only broken by the soft clattering of Willow's keyboard nearby, helped him concentrate. And though he was loath to admit it, the thought that all of his hard work was being safely transferred to one of those infernal machines by Willow was a rather reassuring thought. A little thrill of excitement also went through him at the realization that even the beautiful pictures decorating the ancient originals could be salvaged. Perhaps he should also persuade Willow to scan in some pages with that wonderful flowing script he had encountered in that one slim volume… 

Giles was not a fan of technology, but he was man enough to admit that it was useful in this case. The chances of these precious texts being damaged on the Hellmouth were far greater than he liked to contemplate and having them stored on a computer could save them…well, him - a lot of grief. This way, if anything happened to the originals, he could still continue his work and the priceless pieces of literature would not be lost. It also meant that duplicating them would be less of a hassle.

He really had been quite lucky to find these books. They were exceedingly rare and not many even knew about them, although those who did dismissed them as fictional. Giles had to concede that most of them were exceedingly fantastical, even in his line of work. Stories of dragons and elves, undying islands and a whole pantheon of gods nobody had ever heard about… _I mean, really_, he thought, _but even the most outrageous myths and legends have a truth in them_. It was curious however that the stories themselves had managed to be preserved for so long. And if he was correct in his assumptions, these were just copies of the original. In fact, they could be copies of the copies of the copies…

Giles drew himself out of his rambling musings and paused in his transcribing. He gave a small start when he noticed Xander quietly sitting across from him, absorbed in one of the books. He hadn't even noticed the boy arrive. He must have been more engrossed than he thought. Cleaning his glasses, he quietly tried to figure out what was wrong with the picture before him. Well, apart from Xander willingly picking up one of his 'dusty and smelly old books' as the boy liked to call them.

Giving a slight shrug, Giles turned back to his work. If Xander was finally showing an interest in reading something other than comic books, who was he to stop him? Suddenly, it clicked in him why it had felt so wrong that Xander was reading that particular volume. It was written in that beautiful flowing script that Giles couldn't make heads nor tails of. Xander shouldn't have even been _able_ to read that.

"Xander, how in good heavens are you even able to read that?" Giles said, alarmed.

Xander looked up from his book.

"Huh?" was his eloquent reply.

**Fin **


	2. Old Songs and Tales: Bookworm

Title: Old Songs and Tales: Bookworm (2/6)

Series: Much that once was, is lost

Timeline: After Akallabeth, so somewhere in early season 2 of BtVS.

Summary: Xander finds some literature that is more to his taste.

* * *

Xander entered the school library only to be encountered by silence. Not that this was unusual for a library, but you could usually count on finding at least Giles puttering around with his nose in a book. Well, Xander did find him with his nose in a book this time, but Giles was usually aware enough to greet him. And, he glanced towards Willow who was engrossed behind her computer, Willow always noticed when someone walked in.

As if feeling his glance, Willow looked up from her work and gave him a small, cheerful wave, coupled with that quirky grin of hers. He smiled back and gestured at Giles questioningly. Giles seemed to be completely oblivious to their interaction, pausing every now and then in his writing. Willow just gave a helpless shrug and a fond smile, soon clattering away on her keyboard again. Xander grinned and decided on a little payback for all of the times Giles had sneaked up on him unawares.

He was just about to launch his attack, when one of the open books on the table caught his attention. It was written in an unusual flowing handwriting. He was no expert when it came to such things, but Xander assumed it was a song of some sort with the way it was formatted. _Oh, maybe it was one of those epic thingies we learned about in that class I slept through_, he thought. _If so it's bound to be as boring as all of Giles' books_. Still, strangely drawn to it, he picked it up to take a closer look. The pages crackled slightly under his hands.

The handwriting was like nothing Xander had ever seen and the words the letters formed looked strange, as if they should have meant something else. Something was nagging at him about this book, but he was quickly too caught up in reading it to bother fleshing the thought out.

And, contrary to his earlier thoughts, he soon found out that the book was fascinating. Although a little difficult to read because of the archaic language and his unfamiliarity with verse, it held him fast with its descriptions of a world that made his Dungeons and Dragons games look pathetic. _If any other of Giles' books are as half as interesting, I've been missing out on a few things,_ he thought.

He sat down in a chair across from Giles, immersed in the book and the vivid pictures it painted for him. The story also tickled him, it had the feeling of a half remembered bedtime story, more remembered for the feelings it brought out than any actual memories of the plot. It was a decidedly strange, but not really uncomfortable feeling.

He turned the page, broken out of his musings by Giles' alarmed voice.

"Huh?" was all he could bring himself to say, his mind still immersed with pictures of creatures of fathomless evil, a great hunt and a shining jewel.

** Fin**


	3. Old Songs and Tales: Daydreamer

Title: Old Songs and Tales: Daydreamer (3/6)

Series: Much that once was, is lost

Timeline: After Akallabeth, so somewhere in early season 2 of BtVS.

Summary: Willow does her job.

* * *

It really was surprising, Willow thought, that Giles had finally unbent enough to allow her to scan in those books he had found who-knows-where. They all looked as if they would fall apart at any moment and while she was fond of books in all their leaf-y glory, she felt much safer with a copy of them being in her computer while Giles transcribed the originals. This way they could also keep all of the pretty pictures, although pretty didn't even begin to describe them. Maybe her coherency was still suffering from being amazed at Giles' willingness to trust in computers? Or was she still slightly in awe of the age and beauty many of the books seemed to have? Could that even _have_ an ability to affect her choice of adjectives?

She blushed slightly when she realized she had been rambling in her thoughts again. A quick look around the library ensured her that nobody had been around to see her blush and Giles had been way too rapt in his work to notice. She frowned a bit at this, wondering where the other two of their group were. Well, Xander not being here wasn't all _that_ surprising as he had class currently, but Buffy not being here was a puzzle. She usually skipped this class for some quality Watcher/Slayer time. Willow was only present because her class had been cancelled. _The Hellmouth strikes again,_ she thought with a small giggle. Fortunately, this incident hadn't been anything life threatening.

Willow sobered when her thoughts turned back to Buffy. The Slayer had been acting strangely these past few days. She had been avoiding them, nothing _too_ noticeable, but still worrying. She had also seemed rather haggard the last time Willow had seen her. Willow had kept her distance, not wanting to push, but it hurt that Buffy couldn't bring herself to confide in her.

Getting a feeling of being watched, Willow looked up to see Xander entering the library. Cheering up, she gave him a wave and a smile. However, she was soon caught up in the stuff showing on her screen again. She had been staring at this particular picture for a while, enthralled by the dancing figure in it.

All of the pictures had an ethereal quality to them, scenes from a world gone by, even though Giles insisted that none of the events they showed could have possibly happened. He said that they just didn't _fit_ with what was known about the origins of the world. But they struck a chord in her, almost _singing_ to her of their reality. Those things _could_ have happened and that's what kept her looking at them in fascination and doing her part in keeping them safe.

Willow closed the ancient book she had finished scanning in and stroked the worn leather lightly. She marvelled for a moment that Giles had even let these books out of his sight before rising to put it away. As she approached the nearby shelf where all of those books were held, Willow started humming a part of that ancient tune that ran through her mind like a gentle breeze.

**Fin **


	4. A Picture's Worth

Title: A Picture's Worth (4/6)

Series: Much that once was, is lost

Timeline: After Akallabeth; after Angel looses his soul.

Summary: Angelus can't seem to get her out of his mind.

* * *

Only the scratching of charcoal broke the silence in the room. Angelus ignored the other sounds of the factory drifting through to him, solely concentrated on his drawing. He frowned slightly, carefully applying a stroke here and there. The desk beside him was littered with other drawings, all of them of the same person, only varying in minute details and changes of pose. A few drawings littered the floor, these showing a different figure – a small, blonde teenager in various positions, most of them with an expression of pain on her pretty face.

He scowled in thought as he paused for a while. The fact that he couldn't figure out his sudden fascination of drawing a person he was sure as hell he had never seen was driving him to distraction. The mysterious figure had become his new obsession, easily blocking all thoughts of the golden Slayer aside. He fought against the sadness he felt every time he looked upon the mournful form in his drawings.

He was the Scourge of Europe; he did _not_ feel sadness and most certainly not _affection _for _anyone, _let alone images on paper. Still, something inside him insisted he had known her. He growled, a low grumbling sound that permeated the room. He blamed the fucking soul.

Something inside him had been awakening when the soul had been blissfully ripped from him, leaving small remnants of strange thoughts and feelings. Fleeting glimpses and moments of awareness that had nothing to do with his demon and everything to do with something he had been even before Liam. Something that had his demon roaring in defiance and fear, a deep sated terror of an age long ago.

Angelus growled in outrage when the door to his room opened, causing him to loose his concentration and smear the page. He looked up into the fearful eyes of one of his minions.

"GET OUT!" he snarled. The minion hurriedly closed the door. Angelus turned back towards his drawing, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment. This time, he started the drawing with a tear running down that delicate cheek. She was always crying in his drawings…_my tear maiden,_ he thought.

**Fin **


	5. A Shadow of the Past

Title: A Shadow of the Past (5/6)

Series: Much that once was, is lost

Timeline: Not really relevant.

Summary: Something stirs…

* * *

It had existed for countless ages. An uncountable number of wars had been led for Its possession. Endless blood had been spilt because of Its influence and countless had been corrupted by It beyond all call or desire. It had been mighty and terrible, merciless and cold, filled with a power incomprehensible to mere mortals. It had rested on Its master's hand, poisoning his thoughts, bending him to the will of an even greater lord. It had led him through the Great Wars when the ages were still counted by the Sun and there It had almost been lost.

Because of one mortal, Its master had been lost to It and Its power had been diminished to a mere glimmer of Its former glory. It had survived however. It had seen numberless ages pass It by while It remained, undying and unchanging. It had almost faded before new evil came, renewing Its purpose as It amused Itself in giving petty parlour tricks to the new form of unliving while stirring them towards a greater evil and a grander purpose. Despite all of the time that had passed, It had still only recognized one master and so It had discarded Its wearers when It had tired of them.

It had raged when It had been imprisoned here, beyond the light of Sun and Moon. It drew strength from the corruption of the earth in this area, but It was diminishing. Its time had long since passed and even It did not know why It stayed in a world where It did not fit anymore. Still, a purpose must have remained for It to still be here.

So, deep in the bowels of Sunnydale, It waited. Light shined off of Its jewel despite the pitch black that encircled It as It bided Its time. It stirred as the suddenly fluctuating energies of the Dark Door filled It.

It would be free soon…

** Fin**


	6. Words of Warning

Title: Words of Warning (6/6)

Series: Much that once was, is lost

Timeline: After Akallabeth; season 2 of BtVS.

Summary: Jenny suffers from nightmares.

* * *

The glow from the computer screen lit Jenny's tired face. She had been unable to sleep yet again, her mind troubled by nightmares that never seemed to end. They were always the same and they always left her feeling ill and weak. It frustrated her that she could never remember anything beyond the terror and the running…the endless running. She could never remember _what _she was running from and _why_ she was so afraid. That and the nightmares themselves were wearing her down, driving her to the refuge of her computer and a search for anything that could explain her predicament.

Not even simple calming spells had helped. In fact, they seemed to heighten the fear that she experienced. As if something inside her was afraid of the magic and repelled it. She felt a shiver of unease at the thought.

She frowned at the information displayed on her screen. Something was stirring in the underworld. There were vague mutterings all over, portents of…something.

Jenny rubbed at her tired eyes, trying to ignore the image of deepening circles that had stared back at her that morning. She clicked on another link and sighed when she realized it only led to the ramblings of one of the crazier seers.

A line of text caught her eye. _The Sleepers awaken._ She scrolled down, a feeling of foreboding filling her.

…_the lost Faithful…_

…_tall ships and tall kings…_

…_the black sword…_

…_foe of the world…_

…_light of trees…_

…_Erchamion…_

…_walls of night…_

The words blurred in front of her. Jenny leaned back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes once more. This was useless unless she could get more sleep. She looked at the screen once more, the words glaring accusingly at her. _The world is changing, much that once was…_She turned the monitor off, unwilling to face the words.

Jenny shook off the strange feelings that reading that had given her, knowing that the text had likely been nothing more than the ramblings of an insane mind. Ignoring the whispers of doubt threading through her, she turned towards her bed once more, praying that the nightmares would be held at bay for the rest of the night.

** Fin**


End file.
